


What Are We?

by Theshadehasbeenthrown



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Keith & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Misunderstandings, Platonic Relationships, Post-Season/Series 07, Pre-Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 22:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theshadehasbeenthrown/pseuds/Theshadehasbeenthrown
Summary: Things were said as they drifted aimlessly through the universe, but all was supposedly forgiven. At least that's what Hunk thought. Doubts and old insecurities are making the Black and Yellow Paladins question everything, including if they were even more than friends to begin with.-----My entry for the Mess Hunk Up Bang!Art: https://twitter.com/trashuzu/status/1113955699321655296?s=19





	What Are We?

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my entry for the Mess Hunk Up Bang!!! It's not nearly as smutty as I was hoping for it to be so I apologise in advance if you're looking for extensive, well written sezzy times because unfortunately I didn't have the time or skill to execute such content. I still hope you enjoy though! Please check out my dear friend's art that goes alongside this fic (linked in summary) if you can! Enjoy!

Being released from the hospital of the Garrison should've been a joy to Keith, but as he feebly attempted to walk like a normal human being he felt anything but. Sure, going to the mess hall beat eating broth from the confines of a cot with a tray on his lap, but it wasn't the food or the ability to go about on his own that bothered him as he made his way there. 

“Keith!!!” 

Dear God- Lance's voice nearly made his heart stop in his chest, half startling him out of his skin as he stepped inside the mess hall. He looks over towards where the boisterous voice came from to find not just Lance but Veronica and several of what he guesses are his other siblings as well. Great. 

Keith knows he could just pretend he didn't see him and go about getting his food then eating in the corner but Lance's eyes have already locked on his and the guy is currently waving him over and- he sighs in defeat. Grabbing a tray he nods towards him in acknowledgement before having the it piled with what the Garrison calls food then making his way towards Lance and the rest of the McClains. 

“Hey man what's going on?! Finally out of the nurse's office?” Lance greets him cheerfully. Keith can already feel a headache forming. 

“Yeah, just got emitted a couple hours ago.” He replies, sitting a foot or so away from Lance which of course is cut in half when the guy leans towards him. 

To his surprise, it's a feminine voice that speaks next instead of Lance's. “Did you get more hurt than everyone else?” 

He looks over to the only girl there besides Veronica- who seems moderately interested from where she sips her coffee at the table. He notices Lance roll his eyes off to the side before he replies. “Um, not really, the doctors just wanted to make sure my head was doing okay or something.” He replies, taking a blissful sip of his own coffee. Thank God their supply of it wasn't diminished after the battle. 

“Oh no! What happened to your head?” The girl continues, clearly related to Lance given her dramaticism. 

Lance groans from beside Keith. “Leave the guy alone, Lara, he's just trying to eat his breakfast!” For once he's grateful for Lance's big mouth. 

He glances over at the girl, Lara apparently, who's now directed her attention to Lance. “I'm just asking how he's feeling after that dangerous battle…” her gaze glides back to Keith and he immediately reverts his to his tray. 

“I was in that battle too y'know!” Lance gripes back and Keith tunes the two of them out, a slight flush in his cheeks but it fades as he eats his- surprisingly good- breakfast. He realizes then how hungry he is and immediately begins shoveling it down by the mouthful. 

After what he assumes is a few minutes Lance cuts in on his culinary bliss. “Not like in the old days amirite?” He remarks, grinning knowingly at Keith. 

“Not at all. What changed?” he asks, curious. After the war they've been through the Garrison's kitchen suddenly producing actual food is a surprise to say the least. 

Lance's grin broadens. “Hunk's Uncle Filo, that's who. Dude makes the best everything!” 

Hunk… that's a name he hasn't heard in a few weeks, granted he spent one of those weeks unconscious after a traumatic brain injury, but it's been a while regardless. Partially due to the fact that they were all recovering from the battle but also, as much as he hates to admit it, his own motivations. 

“Cool. Hunk's helping him out I'm guessing?” He asks, trying to be subtle in asking where his boyfriend is but Lance is, unfortunately, too observant for that. 

To his surprise however, Lance doesn't give him that Cheshire cat grin he normally does when something involves him and Hunk, his expression instead neutral. “Nope. He just got free yesterday. I think he's off training with Shiro or something…” he replies as he finishes the crumbs off his plate. 

Now that throws him for a loop. “He's... what?” He blurts out the first thought to comes to mind. Hunk training when he could be helping his uncle out in the kitchen? And the day after being released from medical care? Yeah, that doesn't sound right. 

“Yeah that's what I thought too but hey, the guy's taking after you I guess.” There's that Cheshire cat grin. 

He turns his gaze back to his tray, pushing around the last of his porridge. It just... doesn't add up. Hunk isn't one to train unless he has to, and with no upcoming battle and just getting out of medical care for serious injuries? Something's up. But already he's hesitant to even ask him if he's okay… 

“I'm surprised you haven't heard from him, he was trying to see you the other day…” Lance's grin has turned into a look of suspicion, even concern. He knows something's up, per usual. Being the best friend of his boyfriend will do that. 

He knows Lance isn't asking to piss him off and he knows he only has Hunk's best interest in mind, but God the question irks something inside him, something like guilt. 

“Well I was kinda busy being physical therapy and all, Lance.” He snaps, not wanting this conversation to continue because he knows it's going to lead to the guilt only multiplying. 

Of course, the conversation continues, as it always does with Lance. “Well damn, okay, sorry you were too busy stretching your legs to see your own freaking boyfriend.” Lance's tone is, understandably, irritated, but Keith isn't feeling very understanding right now. 

So rather than replying, rather than de-escalating the situation, Keith does what he does best, gets up, and leaves the crowded cafeteria, no longer hungry. 

~~~~~ 

Hunk is starting to question his decision making.

“Alright, mat’s free!”

Shiro has his Captain voice on as he tries to maintain some sort of order in the crowded training quarters of the only intact gym left in the Garrison, calling for another duo to meet on the sparring mat. Hunk only came in hopes maybe Keith would be here, but Shiro was so happy to see him (and probably missing Keith), so he took him up on his offer to train with him. So after a session of bodyweight, strength training, and suffering on the treadmill, he was told he was done with his warm up and called over to the mats. 

There he sees Kinkade is helping another cadet up off the floor after being easily pinned for the upteenth time and Griffin waiting off to the side. There's a grin on his face he really, really doesn't like right now. He never did. 

It's not that he dislikes Griffin. Hell, he hardly knows the guy aside from that he and Keith really didn't get along back on the day. And given the looks the two having been giving each other it's pretty clear they're neutral towards each other at best. But Hunk? Well the only time he's ever had any one on one time with the guy has been in a moment of pain and humiliation. 

“Alright, you two know the rules…” Shiro says as he lists the rules out for them, Hunk unable to hear them over the sound of his pounding heart. Griffin is staring at him in a way that makes him question everything, his eyes boring into his soul against his will. He remembers him all right. And Hunk knows why. 

They get into their starting positions, face to face and almost eye level, Hunk looking down on him despite feeling much smaller than his opponent at the moment. Griffin's grin broadens. “Just like old times, right?” 

Hunk feels his jaw tighten and his shoulders tense. Both of them know what he's talking about. About them being face to face, eye to eye, just like this only shorter and younger, Hunk with more fat on his bones and Griffin with more anger in his heart. About when Hunk - with eyes wide and glassy and legs trembling in fear - was floored and then pinned to the gym floor within seconds by none other than James Griffin in front of Iverson and their entire class. 

Hunk remembered crying after in the dorms, having vomited up everything in his system immediately after the fight, with only Lance to console him afterwards. He remembered that grin too, worn by James both before and after the match. 

Shiro calls for the match to begin. This time Hunk's legs aren't shaking. 

Griffin immediate moves to take him down the same exact way he did last time, but now with much more finesse from years of training, trying to throw off his balance and use his weight against him. Hunk knows this tactic, Lance has used it against him numerous times and Shiro has taught him how to counteract it just as often. Hunk doesn't budge. 

In hindsight he should probably feel sorry for the guy; for at least three full seconds Griffin attempts to throw off his balance, doing nothing but pushing with all his might before realizing that already this fight is going to be much longer than the last. Trying a new approach he goes lower, trying to go for his legs. Smart move according to Shiro, but one that he's been taught can be easily counteracted simply by holding your ground and grabbing your opponent’s leg attempting to sweep under yours. 

Hunk isn't a natural born fighter by any extension of the word, but he's a good student if nothing else. He grabs James's ankle after dipping down quickly, keeping himself guarded with one arm as the other takes a hold of his limb and lifts. 

The next thing he knows James Griffin is pinned beneath his body weight with his leg nearly touching his head and his arms held in an awkward position by his other hand. 

“Time!” 

Shiro's voice seem to snap him out if a daze of sorts and he releases his hold on James, whom he immediately offers a shaking hand to, adrenaline and shock coursing through his veins. He… Just… beat James Griffin… star student and (the other) Golden Boy of the Garrison. 

To his surprise James takes his hand, letting Hunk pull him up and looking almost as stunned as he does, but after a few moments there's a smile on his face, one that barely resembles his grin from before. 

“Not bad big guy…” he feels him clap him on the shoulder as he walks towards the water fountain. “Not bad…” 

Hunk could pass out right now, have an existential crisis, then throw up in the bathroom. Instead, he hears James's voice calling back to him. 

“Hey!” Hunk turns around from shuffling towards the bench to see James putting a cap on his water bottle, grinning at him though it doesn't feel as malicious as it did before. 

James is making his way back over to him, tossing his bottle to the side before swinging his arms in a way Hunk figures is to stretch them. “So…” He's only a few feet from him now, something that should not make him sweat especially just after kicking this guy's ass, which he's still struggling to believe right now. “Think you can beat me twice?” 

There's that challenging look in his eyes again, one that Hunk still doesn't like per say but he finds he's bothered by it less than before. He could probably say the same for James. 

“Let's find out.” 

The showers are blissfully empty when he heads to the locker room, allowing him to roam about the quarters without having to worry about any prying eyes watching him around the corner. After taking a luxurious three minute shower, the longest the Garrison allows before the water is automatically shut off, he dries off and begins pulling on his Garrison uniform, only having his boxers and socks on when- 

“Hey big guy.” 

He nearly jumps out of his skin, dropping his pants and letting them hit the floor, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull as he looks up to see fucking James, the guy that, it turns out, could be beaten more than once, though after nearly an hour of sparring neither of them were fighting to the best of their abilities, so Hunk considered most of his wins luck. He huffs out a breath, his face coloring as he bends over from the bench to pick his slacks up off the floor. “Oh, hey…” he responds, unable to make eye contact and thoroughly humiliated by the less than masculine yelp he just let out moments ago. 

James is silent for a few moments but Hunk can feel his eyes on him. He glances over at him to see him leaning against the doorway, his arms folded and still in his workout clothes from earlier. “Uh… Sup?” Hunk asks to break the unbearable silence, his lips popping on the ‘p’. 

“You’ve changed,” he states more than comments, eyes coasting over him briefly before locking on his. 

Hunk can't say he enjoys the prolonged stare, immediately darting his eyes away. “Yeah, um… you too…” he murmurs in reply, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly remembering his lack of pants and quickly moving to pull them on, standing up as he does. His eyes are on the ground as he zips and buttons his uniform slacks, not sure where this is going or where he wants it to. This guy bullied Keith and didn't seem to care that he existed the last time they met before the war started. He has every right to be cautious around him. But still, Griffin seems to be, at the very least, trying to make amends for… whatever made him such an asshole as a kid. Even if that means pinning him to the ground with his arms bent behind his back.

“Your family doing okay?” He hears Griffin ask after a few moments. 

Now that gets Hunk's attention. Neither of them have really discussed his family since their covert mission weeks ago. “Oh, uh, they're good. My uncles have been running the mess hall so they're pretty happy…” he replies. It's then he realizes he never actually thanked Griffin for helping him find them. “I uh… have you to thank for helping me find them…” 

James smiles, one that for once doesn't hold any malice. “It was no problem. Just doing my job,” he replies in his perfect boy scout voice. 

Hunk shakes his head. “No, dude, really, you saved my parents lives, of you hadn't come along we would've never gotten them to safety,” he insists, meaning every word. 

It's almost comical the way James's eyes go wide, his pale face noticeably reddening in a way Hunk never thought he'd see in his lifetime. “Well- I- Um…” he stammers, turning his head to the side to inspect the tiled floor. “...you, uh, saved the whole planet so, uh… call it even?” There's a hopeful look in his eyes when they finally look up to meet Hunk's. 

Hunk can't help but smile. “We're even alright…” he replies, his uniform finally fully on and set. He stands up only to bend over and shovel his dirty clothes off the floor and into his duffel bag. “Though sparring wise…,” he grins, his voice trailing off as he side eyes James. 

“Hey!” James scoffs, folding his arms again and looking away. “You got to fight aliens and train with Officer Shirogane for five years, man!” He protests, sounding much more like the James he remembers, a fact that makes him smile. 

“Well you've got all the time in the world to try again…,” he replies, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he walks towards the doorway. “I'm not planning on heading back to space any time soon…” 

James grins at him as he walks by, that challenging look in his eyes back at it again. “I'll hold you to that, big guy.” 

Hunk leaves the gym almost forgetting why his went in the first place. Almost. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Garrison's main facility is approximately 113 stories high. Keith knows this. He's run all of them up and down. Now, as he stands on the roof of the familiar concrete building, it feels so much shorter. He once feared falling from the edge of the roof. Now he's sitting on it. 

Keith knows he overreacted. Kolivan would've given him hell for letting his emotions get the best of him. Then again if he knew it was because of his relationship with Hunk he'd probably stay out of it entirely, not wanting to deal with young adult relationship drama. 

Krolia though, while she was more like him when it came to relationships than his father, might have some wisdom to share with him on how to deal with… this. This being the sort of one sided standoff between him and Hunk. Of him avoiding him and longing for him at every turn, this illogical, anxiety driven predicament he'd gotten himself into, gotten both of them into. 

In spite of their talk and Keith helping Hunk find his parents, he couldn't shake the feeling of disconnect between them. He recalls the things he said drifting in the expanse of space, the things he nearly did had it not been for Hunk stopping him. Things he never apologized for, not really. A hug and a pep talk could never undo the damage he knows he's done. He knows that. Yet here he is, out here, staring at the late afternoon sun. 

It's only when his phone buzzes that he looks away from the sky, pulling it out from his pocket to see several messages, all from Lance. He can already feel a headache coming. 

[Keith]

[Keith]

[We need to meet for a debriefing, Iverson’s orders]

[Keeeeeeeeiithhh]

[KEITH GTFOH BEFORE IVERSON KICKS ALL OUR ASSES]

Keith groans, shoving his phone back in his pocket and getting up from the concrete floor of the roof, trudging towards the door leading downstairs. “This had better be good…” 

 

“The Galaxy Garrison, aligned with the Paladins of Voltron, will be supporting refugees from all corners of the universe in need of sanctuary due to the fall of the former Galra Empire…,” Shiro explains, a montage of images of various alien species appearing on the screen behind him. He's standing at the podium in the meeting hall, composed and collected despite the room having all of its eyes on him. Keith envies him for that sometimes. 

He goes on from there explaining something about relocating some to other planets with the space and resources to support them, though by now Keith's all but tuned him out. 

Standing alongside him are the rest of the Paladins and the MFE pilots, facing the audience as Shiro gives his speech to the Garrison council. Keith knows he's supposed to be staring straight forward, keeping a straight face as Shiro discusses saving the lives of billions upon belongs of people, but his goddamn eyes won't stop twitching towards him.

Hunk is the one bringing up the rear of the Paladins, standing shoulder to shoulder with Lance and Griffin, the latter having no problem with keeping a straight face like the perfect boy scout he is. Lance seems… off, making eye contact with him every once in a while as he's caught staring at Hunk. It barely lasts more than a millisecond at a time but Keith knows he's been caught, that Lance knows they haven't talked. And with how Hunk is standing, looking directly forward at the military council, not even glancing his way, it's clear that something's changed. 

The meeting is called to an end after Shiro answers a few questions, overall going fairly smoothly from what Keith can tell. Though right now, frankly, he doesn't really care. As he and the others are dismissed he finally takes a good look at Hunk. He's not wearing his headband but the partially covered scar on his forehead tells him why, the sight of it making his heart ache. He looks… tired, slight bags under his eyes and a weariness to his posture that only makes him worry more. 

Then, as he walks down from the stage, Hunk's eyes finally meet his, so warm and familiar yet holding so much weight in them. He turns away. 

Keith follows the others out of the meeting hall, bringing up the rear, Hunk several feet in front of him. That slump in those broad shoulders of his, ones that have carried so many of those unable to carry themselves, that have carried him, that he's dug his fingers into while crying out- he shakes his head. He can already feel himself going weak to those memories, to this, to Hunk. He can't take this anymore. He can't take anymore of seeing Hunk hurting like this, hurting because of him. This is all on him. He has to make this right. 

“Hey big guy!” 

Keith looks up from his intense stare at the back of his boyfriend's head to see a body rush by him and up to Hunk, a hand clapping him on the shoulder. Griffin. 

“Oh, hey, you uh, you startled me…” Hunk stammers, his voice not quite his own. Keith knows that voice. It's the voice Hunk has when he's trying not let his emotions get the best of him. 

Griffin however doesn't seem to notice it, still holding Hunk's thick shoulder in his hand. “Sorry bout that… hey you coming back tomorrow? Cause I declare a rematch…,” he says jovially, grinning slyly at that last bit. It does something to Keith that makes his blood boil. A rematch…?

Hunk turns his head to look at him before his eyes dart back to Keith, looking flustered and unsure. “Uh... we'll see man, I'm still a little sore from earlier so…” Sore…? 

“Right, right, I understand, I should probably take a rest day too anyway…,” Griffin yammers on, but Keith's tuned him out by this point, his eyes drilling into the back of Hunk's neck. 

Hunk simply nods and passively agrees with whatever he's saying. “Sounds great man, I'll see you then…,” he replies awkwardly, and finally Griffin bounces, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway. He hears him sigh. 

“Keith…” 

If he turns around to look back at him he doesn't see it because he's already walking down the hall in the opposite direction. He moves faster than necessary, slams the door of his bedroom louder than necessary, and tears off his uniform to slip on his workout clothes faster than necessary. Because if he didn't? He'd think too hard about Griffin's hand on his shoulder, the grin on his lips as he talked to his boyfriend, his boyfriend, or the fact that Hunk didn't call after him. 

He immediately goes straight to the gym, making a beeline for the punching bags and doing what he does best, punching things that never did anything to him until his knuckles are weeping and his eyes are threatening to do the same, the bag in front of him growing blurrier and blurrier before he's falling to the ground. 

Caked in sweat and his breathing mix of a gasp and a sob, he reaches for his phone, clicking on Hunk's name. 

[My room. 18:00 hours.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It's probably for the best that they wait before trying to talk to each other again, as the middle of the hallway really isn't a good place to have a “talk” like they'd be having. That's what Hunk tells himself once he checks his phone to see Keith's message. 

Still, he slams the door behind him as he trudged into his quarters. He and his family had been assigned a suit style set up, one that separated his room from his family's own private dorms. However, a door had never stopped them from barging in. 

“Hunk? Oh, you're back early!” 

His mother, who shares a room with his father two doors away, is currently in his room, sitting on his bed, folding laundry. 

“Hey ma…,” he greets her, kicking off his shoes. Normally he wouldn't mind having her stop in but right now? After his moment with Keith as the crazy events that happened today? He's really not in the mood for one of their usual chats. His mother, however, seems to be. 

“Something wrong hon? Did something happen at the meeting?” She asks, stacking a T-shirt on a neat pile of clothes as she does, looking up at him with that worrisome look on her face. 

Hunk sighs, shaking his head. “No, Ma, just something about helping refugees and all that…,” he replies, checking his phone and leaning against the wall. 

She doesn't seem to buy it, given the way he can feel her eyes seeing right through him. “Oh, well that's nice.” The suspicion is thick in her tone. 

“Yeah…,” he mutters, seeing multiple texts from Lance pop up on his screen when he checks his messages. 

He doesn't have time to read them, however, as his mother continues digging. “How's that friend of yours? The one you were trying to see yesterday,” she asks, no longer folding but putting the piles into a laundry basket beside his bed. 

Just the mention of his “friend” has his heart plummeting to his stomach. He can hear the underlying disapproval in her voice, the suspicion towards this “friend” of his, his boyfriend, and he understands why. She's never seen or met Keith, she didn't spend years in space with him, she only knows that this “friend” of his couldn't even spare a moment to see her son after he spent weeks talking about him like he hung the moon and stars. He understands it, he really does, but he's not in the mood for this conversation right now. 

“He's fine, mom,” he replies flatly, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Listen, I'm really not in the mood to talk right now so if I could just, y'know-” he pinches his brow, “-have some space? Please?” 

The look on her face is a combination of confusion, betrayal, and shock, and he almost starts to take his words back when she grabs the laundry basket. “Fine, fine…,” she huffs, carrying the basket out, “I’ll be out of your way…” 

The door shuts behind her with a sharp thud, closing him off from the rest of the world. Finally.

He flops on the bed that just barely fits him from head to toe, his head hanging off the edge of it as he stares at the ceiling. 

His watch reads 14:38. Less than four hours before he’s meeting Keith at his room. He should be anxiously awaiting it, counting the minutes really, as he has been for the past few weeks. To see Keith, to hold him, to hear his voice, remind himself he's alive and okay. It wasn't until today he realized how stupid of a fantasy that was. 

/“Are we really even friends?”/

Hunk should've recalled those words sooner, should've remembered them as he stood outside Keith's door, pleading with the nurse to let him see him. He should've known Keith, regardless of their little undercover mission, couldn't love him anymore. 

He'd been mulling over these thoughts since last night, when he was released from medical care, when he went to see Keith only for his door to be locked, for a nurse to tell him he was in physical therapy, that he had been up and about for days now. Was this his way of saying he didn't want anything to do with him anymore? That this… thing they were a mistake? That they weren't... even friends to begin with? 

Had he ever meant anything to Keith to begin with? 

“Ugh!” 

He pulls himself up into a sitting position, his face in his hands, furiously rubbing away the tears gathering in his eyes, his jaw clenched as he fights off the sobs threatening to wrack his body. No wonder Keith wanted to abandon him, no wonder he called him a coward. He's never been good enough for this. He's never been the soldier or the Paladin he should have been. He doesn't know what Keith saw in him in the first place. 

He tries to fight it, he tries to be strong, but being the big, soft, cowardly cry baby he is, the tears always win. 

 

“Hunk, my boy! What are doing down here?!” His Uncle Filo greets him with a wave and a wide grin, his shirt covered in sweat and grease from preparing and serving their mid-day meal, which he's currently cleaning up from. 

Hunk feels some of the tension leave his body at his familiar face, as well as the familiar surroundings of the kitchen, even though it's one he's never worked in. “Hey Uncle Filo,” he replies, leaning against the now clean counter, clasping and shaking his uncle's outstretched hand. 

“What brings you here Mr. Defender of the Universe?,” he asks, patting him on the shoulder before going back to wiping down the countertops. 

Hunk forces a smile at the nickname, certainly not feeling up to the title right now. “Just wanted to see if you needed an extra hand or something,” he replies, shrugging. “If you're cleaning up now though I won't dirty up the kitchen again-” 

“No, no, no! I barely just started, come on in, come!,” He insists, gesturing to the rest of the kitchen. “It's all yours, I'll just get a head start on the chopping…,” he goes on, pulling on an apron and getting out a crate full of mismatched Earth and foreign planet vegetables. 

Soon the kitchen is alive with laughter and the smell of he and his uncle's cooking, Uncle Filo telling him old stories from his first job as a chef, all ones he's sure he's heard before but finds hilarious all the same. It feels good, to just talk and cook and laugh for a little while, without the impending threat of an incoming invasion or bad guys to fight just around the corner. Something's he hasn't had in a long time. 

His uncle had commented on the only movies the Garrison had to offer for entertainment were older than him, all of which he'd seen a hundred times over, as had everyone else probably. Hunk had to agree to that, though there was one person he knew who had somehow missed out on such classics. 

“Seriously?! Never?! How the hell do you miss a flick like that?!” Uncle Filo exclaims, dicing an onion without even looking at his hands or his eyes welling up. A true chef's skill. 

“Yeah, yeah, Keith told me about how he'd never seen it and I went ballistic…,” he chuckles as he cleans up the supplies he was using. It's as he has his arms elbow deep in dishwater that he realizes what just came out of his mouth, his face coloring and heart aching simultaneously. 

They're silent for a few moments that feel like hours before his uncle speaks up again, suddenly shoulder to shoulder with him. “So, how’s that boy toy of yours?” 

Hunk nearly drops the muffin tin he's currently scrubbing at the term 'boy toy’. “He's not a toy!” He scoffs indignantly, his cheeks coloring further. “He's- he's our leader and my- my boyfriend…,” he stumbles over his words, quickly drying the pan before moving onto whatever's next. 

“Bah, potato patata,” he replies with a dismissive wave of a hand. Hunk is not loving his grin right now. “But seriously how's he doing? He outta the nurse's office yet?” He asks with some genuine concern in his voice, grabbing another onion. 

Hunk hesitates, unsure if this is a conversation he wants to have right now. Especially since he's meeting with said 'boy toy’ within the next hour or so. 

“Oh, um, he's good, just got released from the medical center today,” he replies simply, avoiding his uncle's gaze. 

His uncle hums suspiciously, and he can see him raising a brow from the corner of his eye. “How bout that girl Shay?,” He then asks, peeling the onion, the other diced finely on the cutting board. 

Hunk can already feel this conversation going south if he knows his own family well enough. Even after coming out to them, knowing full well that he was interested in guys as well as girls, they always assumed any female friend of his was automatically his girlfriend. Shay was no exception despite him repeatedly reminding his family that he was already in a relationship. Still, his family, particularly his mother, had been quite taken with the kind, gentle Balmeran. And with good reason, as Shay is awesome, but it was no secret his family was quietly hoping he might… look elsewhere so to speak. 

“She's good, safe and sound on her home planet,” he replies plainly, drying off a pan from the sudsy water, giving his uncle nothing else. 

His uncle hums in acknowledgement. “That's good. She seemed like a nice young lady,” he remarks pulling some witchcraft in how quickly and smoothly he dices the onion before him. His uncle isn't one to pry, his parents do that for him, but apparently his love life is the one exception. 

“Yup,” he replies, tone flat as he polishes the last pan in the sink and sets it in its place over the stove. Maybe at one point, years ago, he would've considered Shay a romantic interest, but not now, not when he has… 

Does he really have him though? 

His uncle thankfully seems to take the hint as he checks on the muffins he started making when he first got to the kitchen. He presses a finger to the tops of one, feeling it bounce back as he relieves the pressure. Perfect. 

“Hope those muffins are for somethin’ special, with those damn portion regulations…,” his uncle grumbles. He's heard plenty of his groaning about all the inconveniences the regulations put on the food by the Garrison in order to make supplies last. It's a fair reason to limit how much the chefs can prepare each day, but from his uncle's perspective it's a “buncha’ know-nothins tellin me what I can and can't do,” as he's put it many times. Apparently his stubbornness is genetic. 

Hunk puts on a pair of oven mitts and pulls the tray out of the oven. In spite of the muffins being purple thanks to the intergalactic ingredients he used, he must say they look pretty damn good. “Don't worry Uncle Filo…,” he says as he places the tin on the counter before slipping the mitts off. “They're not gonna go to waste…” 

He hopes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After taking a longer shower necessary, getting his clothes straightened out and (attempting to) make his hair somewhat less of a mess Keith finally looks at the clock on the wall of the locker room and realizes just how fucked he is. 

17:54 

He's running down the hall, shoving past people and speeding past doorways, his heels clicking noisily on the floor but he doesn't hear or see any of it. All he can think about is how he'll never be able to forgive himself if he messes this up. 

17:59 

He's running up the stairs, ever so lucky to live on the top floor of the housing center, his breathing growing labored and his calves beginning to burn. There's a sinking feeling in his chest, an icy cold sense of dread sweeping over him. For the first time in a long time he's truly, utterly afraid. 

18:03 

His heart is pounding and his chest feels ready to cave, panting like a dog as he rushes down the hallway of the top floor. He doesn't need to look at his watch to know that he's late, that he's kept Hunk waiting far too long. Hell, he already did that when he avoided him at every turn when he locked himself in his hospital room and begged the nurses not to let him in. And still Hunk tried, he knocked on his door, he asked the nurse's how he was doing day in and day out, even when Keith locked him out of his life. He cared, and now Keith's given him every right not to. 

The doorway to room 1803 is void of anything but its number. He doesn't know what else he expected when he reached it, but when he doesn't see that tall, familiar silhouette he feels his knees threaten to give out beneath him. No. 

Keith barely makes it to his door before he needs to grab something to steady himself, feeling his hands tremble as he grips the door frame. No. No. 

“Um… Keith?” 

Just like that his pounding heart stops, hearing that voice that brings him both salvation and turmoil. He turns. There's no denying who's standing there before him, even when the warmth he usually carries is lacking, his headband missing and his eyes carrying bags that weren't there before. Hunk. 

There's a pause between them, Hunk seeming too tired to try and fill it as he usually does and Keith can't say he blames him. Still, it doesn't dissolve the rock in his throat, the strange mix of elation and terror broiling in his chest, suffocating him, keeping him from uttering a word when there's so much he wants to scream. 

“So… are we going in or…” Hunk, merciful Hunk, finally asks, breaking the stifling silence between them. 

By some holy grace the rock in his throat, at least momentarily, reduces to a pebble and allows him to speak. “Yeah,” he forces out, louder and hoarser than he intended, more of a croak than a word. He clears his throat. “Yeah, come in…” 

He swipes his room key card and walks inside, Hunk in tow, the door falling shit behind with a low click. There are no eyes on them, no one to see or hear their conversation, yet Keith feels like he's under interrogation lights, like what he says now will be forever etched in stone. Maybe because what he says now will determine if the person most important to him will be a part of his life anymore. 

The person most important to him… 

Keith doesn't have time to dwell on the realization as he hears the sound of Hunk clearing his throat. Finally Keith looks at him, seeing the impatience and exhaustion and defeat in his eyes, that look he gets after he's cried for a while. He tries not to think about how he's probably the reason for it. 

“I… made these…,” he mutters, holding out a small muffin tin he hadn't noticed he was carrying before. They look fresh, like he had just made them. For him. 

Keith swallows. Who gave him the right to be this kind? This good to him when he doesn't deserve it at all? “Oh…,” he replies, voice wavering. His eyes move from the tin up to Hunk hesitantly. “Can I…?” 

Hunk holds them out further. “They're for you so…,” His tone is dismissive, something it never is when he talks about food but he knows it has nothing to do with the muffins. 

He takes one, feeling the warmth of it in his hand. It smells as delicious as anything else made by Hunk's hands. Carefully he unwraps part of it and takes a small bite, unable to keep his hands from shaking. The taste all too familiar, taking him back to the Castle ship, to late nights when they each escaped from their rooms to distract themselves from the seemingly never ending war they were facing in their own separate ways. Hunk up til the early hours of the morning slaving away in the kitchen and Keith with the gladiator. But sometimes, every once in a while, Keith would finish his training to find a single muffin and water pouch waiting for him by the entranceway. 

He never really thanked him for that, now that he thinks about it. 

“Thank you…,” he grits out, voice thicker than he expected, and not because of the muffin. 

Hunk smiles though it doesn't nearly reach his eyes “No problem…,” he responds, his voice still soft and uncertain but at least he's looking at him now, those eyes carrying a weight foreign to him. One that he put there. 

They sit down eventually, both seeming to have the same idea at the same time, a fact that makes Keith's heart do so many funny things in his chest. Too many. Just having him a few feet away from him sets him off like a live wire, and before he knows it he's shaking where he sits as he struggles to get words out. 

“Okay…,” he swallows, his eyes fixated on his hands, “So I have some explaining to do…” 

Hunk lets out a chuckle that isn't entirely humorous. “Yeah…,” he agrees, his voice laced with reasonable bitterness, though his eyes aren't entirely unkind. Just sad, tired. Keith's eyes find the floor again. 

How the hell is he supposed to do this? He cut Hunk off without a word, without an explanation, he abandoned him. He fucked up so horribly even he doesn't have words for himself. 

And to think this is the second time he's felt like this… 

“When I woke up in the medical bay… you were the first thing on my mind…” Cheap start, “For the first few days I was awake I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but lay there and worry... about you, the team, Earth…” 

He swallows, too chicken to do more than glance at Hunk as he makes sorry excuses for himself, though Hunk doesn't seen mad, not yet anyway. Puzzled, but listening. That's all he can ask for. 

“I thought about the battle, about our journey to Earth, about… the things I've said…” 

Hunk's brow furrows but he doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to. Keith continues. “I couldn't stop thinking about… months ago, when we were stranded in space, no Lions, no Bayards, just us, when everything seemed hopeless.” He gulps. When did his throat get so dry? “When I said...those things…” 

There's a pause but Hunk's confusion only grows more evident, opening his mouth to ask what the hell he's going on about but he seems to figure it out before the words can leave his lips. Those pretty brown eyes suddenly flood with understanding before furrowing in confusion again. “Keith-” 

He has to look away to keep what little he has of himself together. “I know- I know it was a while ago and it doesn't excuse the way I ignored you and blocked you out and only made things worse between us but-” 

“Keith.” 

“-but I was a coward, okay? I couldn't stop thinking about it, about what I said, I couldn't stop thinking about how I hurt you and-” 

“Keith.” 

He freezes, feeling warm hands on his shoulders and Hunk's voice suddenly much, much closer. When did he get in front of him? When did his eyes start welling up? 

Hunk looks like he wants to laugh but he knows it's not at him, not with how those beautiful amber eyes have flooded with warmth again,making Keith's heart stutter in his chest. 

“Keith, please, listen to me here…,” he pleaded, holding on to him like he was scared he'd run away again. Keith didn't dare move. “With everything that's happened that's been the last thing on my mind, believe me…” 

His hands moved from his shoulders down his arms, reaching his hands. God, those hands… ones he's missed more than he thought humanly possible. He doesn't dare speak when Hunk does, having to remind himself to breathe as he waits for his next words on bated breath. 

“I mean...yeah, at the time it bothered me but none of us had eaten or slept in over twenty four hours, we couldn't get a hold of our Lions- everything looked so hopeless, and I wasn't much help either…,” he went on, smiling sadly at the last part. Keith opened his mouth to interject but Hunk beat him to it. “C'mon, you know I wasn't any better, talking like I did, like I wanted to leave…” 

Hunk's thumbs rub his knuckles, Keith squeezing them in turn. He wants to object, to tell him they were all in the same state, but he knows on some level he's right. After a few moments Hunk continues. “But then we came home, I found out about my family, and you helped me... when no one else would…” 

Hunk smiled at him and though he wants to fight it Keith can't help but smile back. He just has that way about him Keith's always been weak for. 

“I'm sorry… that I didn't let you come see me…” he chokes out, his voice hoarser than he expected. His hands still grip Hunk's even as he looks away, the guilt still there even after all his explaining. To his surprise, and utter delight, he feels his lips on his cheek in response. 

“It's okay,” he murmurs against his rapidly reddening cheek, “you're here now, and I'm happy for that…” 

Keith doesn't know what comes over him. Maybe it's the exhilarating relief of Hunk not hating him or the overwhelming joy from having Hunk in his arms again but the next thing he knows his lips are against his, diving in deep and uncaring if he drowns. Hunk stills at first but reciprocates within seconds, his hands releasing his and moving to his face, cupping his cheeks and melting into his lips. Keith's certain he could now die happy. 

They're both messes. They've both missed each other more than they thought possible, both spent nights aching and waiting and missing each other, all alone. It only makes Keith kiss him harder, fiercer, rolling over top of Hunk after they've fallen back on the bed. He needs to make this up to him, he has to show him how he missed him, how he wants him, that he never stopped. 

Within minutes Hunk's hands are against his skin under his shirt, his thick, calloused digits running over his skin as his tongue glides against his. Keith's belt is already undone and Hunk's top is half unzipped, Keith's greedy fingers running all over his broad chest. They're both feeling greedy right now it seems, Hunk gripping his ass and grinding him against him, already stiffening beneath their uniforms like a couple of horny teenagers desperate to get their hands on each other. Keith doesn't mind though. 

 

“Are you sure you don't want another?” 

Hunk asks as he slides two slick digits inside him, scissoring them to spread him open. His clothes are gone, as are Keith's, the only thing covering either of them being sweat. Despite his obvious hesitance Keith knows that look is his eyes, one that trails over every inch of his exposed skin like a meal. He loves it, loves knowing he has this affect on him, making someone so patient and gentle so hungry and wanting. 

Keith shakes his head, his chest rising and falling heavily as he looks at Hunk with a similar look in his eyes. “Just… roll over, okay?” He asks, smiling softly as he runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes full of love and adoration underneath that heat, mirroring Hunk's. 

His boyfriend complies, slipping his thick digits out of him and lying Back on the bed, taking his hips in his as Keith straddles him. While Hunk tries to control his pace Keith wastes no time in sliding down onto his fat length, Hunk letting out a warbled groan as he slides further and further down, his beautiful lips parted and his head thrown back as another groan in punched out of him. 

Keith's in no better state, riding him frantically and uncaring to whoever might hear outside his these walls, giving in to his own need, his own desperation, tears falling from his cheeks. How did he live without this? Without him? How was he so blind, so stupid? 

He doesn't register Hunk's voice, calling for him, until he feels him brushing his tears away. “Keith... baby… please don't cry… it's okay, I've got you…,” he hears him whisper, yus voice so soft and gentle despite the fact he's literally riding on his dick as he speaks. 

By some miracle Keith gets enough of a grip to open his eyes again, seeing Hunk looking up at him with so much concern he could weep all over again, but he doesn't. Instead he leans into his touch, smiling a watery smile in hopes of soothing Hunk's worries. “I'm okay... just... I was worried I'd never have this again… that I'd lost you for good…” 

That brings a whole new onslaught of tears but Hunk pulls himself to sit up and brushes them away, covering him in kisses in the process. “You could never lose me… ever…,” he murmurs in that firm yet gentle voice that makes Keith want to believe every word he says, and he does. 

 

Keith doesn't know how many times he comes that night or how long he stays in Hunk's arms, but when he wakes up the next morning he has no doubt of what they are.


End file.
